Part 14 (1/2)
”My dear fellow,” I said, ”I think nothing at all, except that the Countess is a most charming lady, and that you will doubtless live a most happy life together. I am sure I hope you may.”
He looked at me queerly for a moment, and then brought his hand down with a whack upon my shoulder.
”By Jove! Do you know, I believe you have been in love with her yourself,” he said. ”Now own up!”
”It is very possible,” I answered, feeling that my only safety lay in answering as I did. ”I have been in love with her ever since I have known her, and with all due respect to you, I shall remain so after she has become Her Grace the d.u.c.h.ess of Rotherhithe. If you are jealous, you will have to forbid me the house.”
He laughed uproariously, his confidence quite restored by my candour.
Then, with an a.s.surance that I had better not let him catch me flirting with her, he informed me that it was time for him to be off, as he had promised to call at Wilts.h.i.+re House that afternoon.
”One last question,” I said, as we walked towards the door, ”and I mean it seriously. What does cousin Conrad say to the arrangement?”
”I don't know what he says in the least, and what is more I don't care,”
he replied, an angry look coming into his face. ”Between ourselves, George, I don't like that young fellow. I shall take care, once I am married, that he doesn't enter my doors.”
”I think you would be wise,” I said, and there the matter dropped.
When he had gone, I sat myself down to consider the situation. It displeased me for more reasons than one. Rotherhithe was my old friend.
I was exceedingly fond of him, and I had no desire that his married life should prove a failure. Yet what reason had I for supposing that it would? It is true I had seen a good deal of the Countess lately, but not sufficient to be able to declare that I knew her intimately. She was a beautiful woman, an excellent hostess, the possessor of great wealth, and--though beyond her father I knew nothing of her family--evidently of gentle blood. This much was in her favour, yet there were other things which rankled in my memory, and which, had I aspired to the honour of her hand, I should have wanted explained to me. How was it that no one had ever heard of her before she appeared to dazzle all London? Was Count Reiffenburg really her cousin? Who was that mysterious foreigner who had plainly been threatening her on the morning that I had met her in the Park? And last, but not least, what was the real story of that old tramp's entrance into Wilts.h.i.+re House on the night of the supposed burglary?
The most alarming question, and the most difficult of all to decide, was whether it was my duty to say anything to Rotherhithe upon the subject.
He was, in the main, an easy-going, happy-go-lucky fellow, not overburdened with brains, but in every other respect a high-minded English gentleman. Yet I knew him well enough to feel sure that in a case like this he would have been the first to resent--and, looked at from his own light, quite rightly too--any aspersion that might be thrown upon the character of the woman he loved. That he _was_ in love with her there could be no sort of doubt. One had only to look into his face to see it. But _I_ was also fond of him, and if I knew there were anything hidden from him which he ought to know, was it not my duty, as his friend, to risk his anger, and the possible rupture of our friends.h.i.+p, in order to make him acquainted with it?
For the remainder of the day I debated this question seriously with myself, but try how I would I was quite unable to arrive at a satisfactory decision regarding it. This much, however, I _did_ do--common politeness demanded it of me: I sat down and wrote a note of congratulation to the Countess. Though I knew in my heart it was a somewhat traitorous proceeding, yet, when the note had been despatched, I must confess I felt easier in my mind. A twinge of conscience, however, still remained to plague me. If only I had not taken the walk that night, or if only I had been too late to see the old man enter the house, I should have been able to regard the whole affair, if not with pleasure, at least with a measure of equanimity. Now, however, it was otherwise.
Next morning a charming little note arrived from the Countess, thanking me for my good wishes, and referring to herself as one of the most fortunate women in the world. As a letter it was delightful; as an expression of the writer's true feelings, well--I was not quite so satisfied as to its genuineness. Charming though the lady undeniably was, and sympathetic to an eminent degree, I found it extremely difficult to imagine her in love. If by chance she were so, however, Rotherhithe was certainly the last man whom it would have been with. The news of his engagement had caused quite a stir, even at that time of almost daily sensations, in the fas.h.i.+onable world. In consequence of it, however, those who had hitherto been inclined to hold a little aloof from her, as one whose antecedents were not sufficiently well known to warrant the intimacy, now that the Duke had, so to speak, stood sponsor for her, were prepared to admit her into their inmost circle.
As for Rotherhithe he conducted himself like an amiable lunatic, frequented Wilts.h.i.+re House to an extent that almost bordered on the indecent, and was making plans for the future with the impetuous recklessness of a fifteen-year-old schoolboy. His beautiful home in the Midlands was to be prepared for occupation, a new yacht was to be built that would be the finest of her kind, while Rotherhithe House, in London, was to be refurnished and decorated throughout. Altogether, as somebody said, the Duke's love-affair would be likely to prove the costliest hobby he had indulged in since his majority. But as I have said before, if he desired to marry the Countess, and was convinced that his happiness lay in that direction, it was no business of mine to contradict him.
From the tone I have adopted in speaking of this matter it may be surmised that I was jealous of Rotherhithe's success. Allow me to a.s.sure you, most emphatically, that such was not the case. I am quite prepared to admit that I admired the Countess, as not only a beautiful, but also an exceedingly clever woman. As I have once or twice remarked, however, I am a confirmed bachelor, and I do not think it would be in the power of the fairest daughter of Eve to induce me to change my state.
It was in this frame of mind that I entered the portals of Wilts.h.i.+re House on the evening of the Countess's dinner. In some ways my interest had departed from it. I was merely a looker-on at a game which was being extremely well played, and, knowing something of the rules by which it is governed, I was able to appreciate the importance of the various moves, while being in no way dependent upon their skill.
The Countess, looking like the Queen of Beauty, received me in the drawing-room. Rotherhithe had already arrived, and, as was plainly to be seen, was ensconced on the summit of happiness.
”I am glad you should be the first to arrive,” she said, as if her _fiance_ counted for nothing, ”and, while I have the opportunity, I must thank you once more for your charming letter, and for the kindly sentiments it expressed.”
”It was awfully nice of you, by Jove!” put in the Duke, and then added with boyish _navete_: ”Manderville always knows how to do and say the right thing. He's a past master of tact.”
I happened to be looking at the Countess's face as he said it, and if--as I feel sure I did--I read it correctly, it spoke volumes.
”She does not care about him an atom,” I said to myself; and then I added, ”if that's so, G.o.d help my poor old friend!”
A few moments later, when we were nearly at the end of our stock of commonplaces, the other guests arrived. So far as they were concerned, the dinner was likely to prove a success. Besides the Countess, Rotherhithe, and myself, there was Lady Deeceford, who, besides being one of the prettiest women in England, is also one of the wittiest; Deeceford himself, who had just returned from the Pamirs, and who, while being one of the geographical lions of the day, was also a well-informed man of the world; Montague Wordley, the dramatist, whose wit was a puzzle, even to himself; and pretty Mrs Van Hoden, the American actress, famous alike for her beauty and her talent. These, with Lady Susan Pedthorpe, whose powers are too well known to need description, completed the list.
The honour of escorting our hostess into dinner was given to me, while Rotherhithe gave his arm to Lady Deeceford; the latter's husband took Lady Susan; Wordley, Mrs Van Hoden. To attempt a description of the meal to which we sat down would be impossible; let it suffice that it was unique in every sense of the word. Looking back over a period of more years than I care to think about, I am unable to recall one entertainment that in any way equalled it. The whole thing was original from end to end. The earth seemed to have been ransacked for our delectation. The wines were of the choicest vintages, and the waiting was all that could be desired. By reason, I suppose, of what followed later, every detail of the entertainment is indelibly impressed upon my memory. I can recall the smallest items connected with it. The Countess's Southern beauty, Rotherhithe's jovial countenance, Mrs Van Hoden's rippling laugh, the perfect modulation of Lady Susan's voice, even the glitter of a splendid sapphire on one of Lady Deeceford's shapely fingers, are as deeply engraved upon my memory as if it were but yesterday. One thing, I must confess, surprised me, while at the same time it added to my pleasure. That was the absence of our hostess's cousin, Reiffenburg. Unable to account for it, I was later on induced to enquire after him.
”He has gone into the country,” she replied. ”He has heard of some shooting that would appear to be perfection, and he has gone to prove it. Conrad is rapidly becoming Anglicized.”
”Consequently, discovering a fine day, he enquires what he shall kill,”